


Resonance

by Kuukkeli



Series: Miscellaneous [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Multi, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Sticky, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-10 00:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old medic with two beautiful younger mechs get a little frisky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resonance

**Author's Note:**

> AU because Wing's alive. Because I can. B)
> 
> Um... I guess this is good? There's something that irks me a little in this fic but I don't know what. :'D

What had started as a fun and peaceful evening in Swerve’s with Wing, was now completely something else; the knight had him pinned against the wall right next to the door of the grounder’s hab suite and was now tracing and mesmerizing the curves of his almost-hour-glass shaped waist, lips sealed and tongues tasting each other feverishly.

“Wing...” Drift moaned between kisses, his hands gripping the other’s shoulders.

“I have to admit I love this new upgrade of yours”, he murmured, his hands on Drift’s hips, wandering dangerously low on his thighs.

The lithe mech grasped the hands and brought them forth between them.

“What’s wrong? I thought you...” Wing said, slightly baffled.

“That’s not it. It’s just... not here. In the corridor”, Drift managed, fumbling with the coding to the door. He succeeded on feeding the correct code even upside down and pulled Wing inside, locking their lips together once again.

“Agreed”, the jet crooned after a heated battle of lips and gave a meaningful glance over Drift’s shoulder.

The grounder followed his line of sight to see Ratchet sitting on his berth, looking rather unpleased. “You kids decided to start without me? Youth and their impatience...” he huffed, shaking his head with a lopsided smile on his lips.

“Would you like us to make up for it?” Wing said, his hands sliding up Drift’s back, earning a purr from the speedster.

“Get on with it”, was the stern reply.

Wing smiled and steered Drift and himself a little so Ratchet could see their side profiles and to inspect as much as he could while the younger mechs got lost into each other.

Drift’s hands dropped on Wing’s hips, massaging the wires between the seams, evoking a pleasant gasp.

“Do that again”, the jet whispered, his lips nibbling Drift’s neck. And the grounder repeated the motion, a shiver travelling up Wing’s body, making him feel weak in the knees. Returning the favor, Wing dipped his right hand between the other mech’s legs to fondle with the panel his target was hidden behind.

Wing stepped behind Drift and turned him to face Ratchet, his hand still on the closed panel, fingers dancing in a slow motion over it. The grounder gasped as the panel opened with a quiet click, allowing his erect spike to slide out, the biolights along the shaft pulsating eagerly. There was a small biolight node right beneath the tip of the spike which the knight targeted next, circling it with his middle finger and kissing the neck he was offered.

“Watch carefully, Ratchet. Watch how beautiful he is”, Wing murmured, his fingers playing with the spike while his other hand rested on the curvy hips. He smiled sweetly at the needy whimper that escaped Drift’s lips, his hips pushing forward for more touch.

The knight grasped Drift’s hand and brought it behind his back, fingers brushing against something hard and hot. The fingers curled around the member and started pumping it, tugging at it accidentally.

“Don’t be so impatient, my sky. You’ll get what you need soon enough”, he purred, doubling his effort on pleasing Drift, pumping the head of the spike between his index finger and thumb as his middle finger kept circling and rubbing the node. In return, the speedster massaged the spike, thumbing the tip and stroking the underside, the breathy moan passing by his audio giving his ego a boost.

The grounder moaned as he was granted more pleasure, feeling his climax approaching fast. He wouldn’t last long if Wing kept doing _that_! He gasped loudly when the deft fingers rubbed the node vertically, his spike twitching in the early first waves of overload.

A deep, raspy chuckle from Ratchet distracted Drift a little and he locked his gaze with the older mech, the intense stare finally tipping him over. The speedster’s body tensed as his spike spurted not one but two hot arches of transfluids, a chocked cry slipping from his vocalizer. His vents fought to expel the excess heat from his body, the loud hum the only noise in the room. The mech behind him thrust his hips against his hand couple of times and with a moan – how Wing could sound so calm?! – reached his relief, the evidence painted on the small of Drift’s back.

Drift gathered his bearings and retracted his spike back into its housing. “That felt so good”, he rumbled to Wing, running a hand over the other’s cheek.

Wing nuzzled the warm palm and purred. “As much as I’d like to continue with you, I think Ratchet is melting on his wheels over there”, he snickered and gently guided Drift to look at Ratchet who fidgeted and barely kept his composer. Well, you can’t blame him, can you? You, too, would be feeling discomfort between your legs if you were given such a show.

A predatory grin appeared on Drift’s lips and he dropped on all fours, crawling towards the medic. Wing did the same and wedged himself between Ratchet’s parted legs, snuggly next to Drift. Oh, what a sight it was; two beautiful, younger mechs staring up at the old mech with big, begging optics just like technodog puppies waiting for a treat. Who was he to deny them? With that, he let his panel open and his throbbing spike emerged from its hiding place.

The jet was the first one to wrap his lips around the tip, earning a displeased growl from his partner beside him. How eager they both were to please this old scrap heap... Wing’s tongue slithered over the head, down the shaft and back up, kissing it open mouthed along the way. His mouth felt so good the medic knew this would be short lived fun but fun, nonetheless.

To give Drift’s mouth something to do while he waited for his turn, Ratchet brushed his fingers along the younger mech’s lower lip, gesturing him to open up.

Drift did as was asked and his tongue drew the offered middle finger into the hot mouth. Ratchet had dialed up the sensory input in his fingers to the most sensitive to receive the best sensations.

Wing’s head bobbed between Ratchet’s thighs, his audio flares pressed against the curves of his head to give him more room to perform, the lips forming a perfect ring around the spike, the tongue offering lavish attention to the tip. Quite literally on the other hand, Drift’s mouth licked and sucked the red fingers one by one, occasionally taking two fingers in and forcing them apart with his tongue to lick the space between them.

Ratchet noticed Wing’s hand between his own legs, the back and forth movement giving away what he was doing and the muffled moan only confirming the speculation. The old mech then took a look at Drift who also had his hand in the shadows of his luscious thighs, no doubt doing what.

The combined, not-so-demure efforts to push Ratchet over the edge were really doing the trick. He groaned gruffly, resting his vacant hand on Wing’s head, the weight there having a soothing effect. He wanted Drift to have a go on his spike and with an apologizing nudge he pushed Wing off of his spike. Somehow, as the grounder enveloped the rigid spike with his mouth, he managed to repeat exactly what the jet had done just a second ago. And when Wing got to work on his fingers, he seriously considered that these two younger mechs were wired together by their processors – figuratively speaking.

Grunting, the medic bucked his hips slightly, feeling the strong push behind his spike starting to loosen, threatening to spill his load before time. Right on cue, Wing let go of his now damp fingers and joined Drift to finish the job. Two pair of optics – blue and golden – gazed up and nailed Ratchet in place, triggering his overload. His body shivered in the throes of his climax, a moan rolling from his lips, copious amount of transfluids coating the younger mechs’ faces with streaks of silver.

The two white mechs moaned in unison for both their own release and for being rewarded for their efforts. These two definitely were wired by their processors!

They got up from the floor and Drift fetched some cleaning cloths for them all to clean up and once done, the younger mechs climbed on the berth to snuggle against Ratchet. The medic was quite smug and pleased with himself to have one beautiful, young mech at each arm – it gave a nice feeling of symmetry, really.

He admitted to himself that he was grateful for having the two mechs in his life. His sun, his sky. Their home.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be Drift/Wing/Ratchet/Rodimus/Perceptor OT5 at first but then it turned into OT3 instead.


End file.
